Wait, We Can't
by schautomatic
Summary: Dan is drunk, Phil less so. (AmazingPhil/danisnotonfire). [okay so i was going to write a better ending but it's not really happening anytime soon. i'm so sorry D: if anyone wants to write one in the meantime please link me!]
1. Chapter 1

He was far too drunk, Phil decided as he warily eyed his best friend (who was face-down on the floor, mumble-humming the words to Britney Spears' Toxic and managing to sound disturbingly sexy). Dan blinked sluggishly back up at Phil and protested, "'M'not drunk, Phil." Oh, Phil realized belatedly, he was talking to himself out loud and he really should stop before he said something ridiculously stupid. Perhaps he was a little buzzed himself, although he was fairly certain that Dan had done most of the drinking. He probably should find some aspirin now before it was morning (actually, it was morning already, his laptop was telling him) and they were both pathetically dying from hangover-ness (was that a word? probably not. it should be. yeah, he was a bit drunk too and) -

Oh. Okay. When had Dan levitated himself onto the couch? Phil probably should have noticed the slight dip from Dan's weight, but his coordination was a bit off and he hadn't noticed and now Dan was crawling into Phil's lap, a predatory gleam in his suddenly very-close eyes. Which were very chocolately and coffee-ish and delicious and gorgeous and _whoa,_ Dan had just pushed his laptop to the floor (ouch, that didn't sound good but he couldn't bring himself to bother looking at it now because Dan's eyes, they were _so_.)

And Phil was a little nervous and unsure and fidgety now because Dan was leaning over him, a smirk playing over his lips (and those lips were perfect and pouty and soft, but how did Phil know they were soft again?) Ah, Phil realized dazedly, it was because they were suddenly on his own, delicious gentle pressure. Playful tug on his bottom lip and silent gasp and Dan slipping into his mouth, hands curling into his hair and this was perfect-wonderful-blissful-yes but _Wait!_ screamed the rational part of Phil's brain and he warded off Dan with an arm, reluctantly pushing the other boy away (and fighting the urge to pull him closer-closer-now). Because this wasn't right, he wasn't that drunk, he couldn't take advantage of Dan's inebriated state to exploit his little best-friend crush. Dan was scowling (unused, no doubt, to his partners rejecting his advances) and reaching for Phil again. Dan, who just wanted touch and taste - and Phil, who wanted that but something else too that Dan could never give him.

Dan was definitely drunk, because he grabbed at Phil's shoulders and missed entirely and toppled forwards, the two of them hitting the sofa with a muffled thunk (and ouch, Dan's elbow jabbed Phil sharply in the ribs). Dan, straddling Phil (heat coiling low and tight in stomach), apparently decided this was fine too, because he beamed and sloppily pinned Phil's hands down with his own (heavy and Phil squirmed for a moment but couldn't get up and crap, _crap_ this was hot).

"Wait," he managed weakly. "Dan, please, wait a second" because Dan was leaning in again (those deliciously reddened lips) but paused, one eyebrow arched in expectant irritation. "I can't," Phil continued, braver. "We can't, Dan."

"N' why not?" Dan snapped, "'t'll be fine, just need to, doesn't mean 'n'thing" and icy-sharp spears in Phil's chest, exactly why they couldn't, because Dan would pass out, wake up and pretend nothing happened because to him, it would be true, but Phil would lie awake and regret and his chest would break-shatter-scream-agony, so "No," he replied firmly. "I don't want this, Dan" and perhaps this wasn't the best thing to say (but what could he do, tell Dan that he loved him like a freaking love song) because Dan's face twisted and his hands tightened on Phil's wrists and he kissed Phil hard enough to bruise and growled "Don't want this, d'you."

Dan lifted himself off Phil for a moment (arms tight and straining) and his eyes flitted down between Phil's legs. And Dan flashed him a wicked, wicked smile because "Really," he drawled into Phil's ear (hot sparks and boneless sigh and blush creeping up), "Wasn't entirely sure, had to check, but 'ey. Y'do want this, huh" and very slowly, deliberately slid one hand down from Phil's now-relaxed wrist to cup him through his jeans and _"Fuck,"_ Phil breathed, and blushed, free hand coming up to cover his mouth. "That's the idea," Dan informed as he groped around for a nearby tassel, tugging Phil's hand back up (no-no-no this was a bad idea he would regret it later for sure) and whoa, sudden pressure around his wrists had Dan just, _he had just tied his wrists_.

"Better," Dan purred, and oh, (breath hitching uncontrollably), god, Phil was _so_ screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: please note that the rating has gone up (yay?)**

Phil squirmed, hyper-aware of the hot wetness seeping into his painfully tented jeans, the tassel chafing his wrists, the sofa arm pressing into his back, Dan's parted thighs brushing against his hips. Dan began to trail lazy fingers over Phil's shirt, thumb accidentally-on-purpose grazing over a nipple through the fabric (low hiss, and Phil's mouth can't seem to manage much more than that). His other hand rummaged around, this time returning with a discarded tie (Phil had been frantically looking for that one for the convention a few days ago, and it had apparently been tucked into a crevice in the sofa the entire time and) -umph, because Dan had jerked Phil's wrists forward and was now tying the silk piece around his head, and the corners of his mouth were uncomfortably stretched and his protest came out as a muffled "hnnmmmghh".

Dan finally sat back with a satisfied little sigh to admire his handiwork. Nodding thoughtfully, he turned his attention down to Phil's still-covered arousal. Slow, teasing slide of his palm up and down the trapped length (involuntary jerk of hips aborted by Dan's infuriating weight on him) until Phil's vision was blurred with desperate tears because the touches were too slow, too light, not /enough/, and he worked his tongue around the tie enough to rasp "Dan, _please"._

And this time the word worked its magic, because Dan shivered, eyes darkening impossibly and hands moving suddenly, tearing and pulling at Phil's clothes (buttons scattering and the zipper, the blessed zipper, and) sudden release of pressure.

Hiss and flinch, cold air hitting feverish skin as Dan eventually worked Phil's pants down, damp underwear and all. Dan hardly paused to admire the exposed flesh before yanking Phil up and tossing him on his stomach (faceful of sofa, and why the heck) - hard, slick length grinding against him, tauntingly rubbing against his hole. His thighs clenched and spasmed around Dan, who continued to rut furiously between Phil's legs until (biting hard into Phil's shoulder,) warm liquid pulsated and coated Phil's thighs and lower backside (and Phil bit back a choked sob and no, no).

With a sigh, Dan collapsed onto Phil, snoring softly. (Dan had fell asleep on top of him, the drunken bastard, and Phil's arousal was still crushed underneath them both.)

(But his hands were tied and Dan was a dead weight on him and he could only manage to move enough so he could breathe somewhat easily.)

(Gut-wrenching panic at the reality of it, because having your best friend tie you up and use you for what was basically drunken masturbation was bad, but facing said best friend the morning after would be infinitely worse.)

Phil stared into the darkness, eyes dry, as Dan's slow breathing filled the room.

**a/n: yep so much for that satisfying ending i was going to write; you get some filler between drunkenness and aftermath instead :D and classes start up again tomorrow so you might want to write a few lengthy novels yourself if you're going to wait for another installment. i'm sorry D:**


End file.
